The Eternal Reason
by Fletset
Summary: Kyle has a problem... SLASH.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own South Park.

**Author's note I:** I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native tongue.

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**The Eternal Reason**

When it came to sex, Stan figured, Kyle acted like a girl on her period. He'd be all cooperative during foreplay, giggling and moaning and kissing as if his life depended on it, but the moment Stan caressed his ass, Kyle would pale, pull away and then mumble something about a sudden headache.

Of course, it was okay for Kyle to caress _Stan's_ ass. And do more to it, really.

See, bottoming did not bother Stan that much. It's just that… Kyle sucked at topping. He'd do everything wrong, his penis would slide out waaaay too much, and frankly, neither of them got much satisfaction out of it. Usually they reached orgasm in mutual jack-off, and while porno was great fun an all, Stan hated finding himself in the same position as those poor actors.

Stan was seriously considering taking Kyle by force, but that cute face the redhead made during their foreplays always prevented him from doing so.

"Kyle," Stan panted one night when he was lying half naked above his boyfriend, his hands on said man's chest, drawing small circles slowly. "Kyle, let _me_ top tonight," he breathed into the Jew's ear and felt him shudder beneath him.

Kyle began fidgeting suddenly. Stan was disappointed with himself at how this reaction kept on letting him down, even though he always expected it. "Maybe… maybe we should just go to sleep. I… I'm tired."

Stan sighed heavily. "I promise I'll be gentle," he said and stroked the redhead's cheek.

"I know you'll be," Kyle whispered. "But I… I'm tired, Stan. Honestly. I need to wake up early tomorrow."

"What for?" Stan asked, frowning, sick of the usual excuses. "It's Sunday!"

Beneath him, Kyle began to sweat. "Well… uh… see… this… paper I need to work on…"

"I thought you're done with this semester."

Kyle looked away. "No, uh… see…"

Stan gritted his teeth and slid off his boyfriend, holding his chin and forcing the Jewish man to look at him. "What the fuck, Kyle!" he cried, narrowing his eyes. "What is your problem with being bottom? God knows I've done it since we first started… you know… and I'm sure _you're_ well aware of the fact you _suck ass_ at topping!" he said, proud of himself that he managed to express himself so well after about a year of keeping it bottled up inside of him.

Kyle, however, simply stared at him oddly. "You should use different slang when you talk about our sex life, Stan."

Stan frowned, not fully comprehending, and then closed his eyes in frustration and rolled over, showing his back to Kyle. "Whatever," he muttered. "Good night."

Behind him, he could hear Kyle sighing. "Night…" he mumbled.

Not another word was uttered between the two until morning came.

A few (sexless) days later Stan was watching some boring reality show on TV when Kyle came back from work, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"Hey," Stan greeted, a small smile forming on his lips. "How was your day?" he asked.

Kyle shrugged. "Was okay. What are you watching?" he asked as he approached the brown, leather couch.

"Some stupid reality show. You know, the usual setting of stupid boys and girls and waiting so see who will fuck who first."

Kyle chuckled. "Ah," he replied.

"Come on, sit next to me," Stan said, looking up at the redhead with a silly smile. "You seem cold, I could warm you up."

Kyle chuckled again, but this time around it sounded awkward. "I uh… I want to go and take a shower first."

Stan nodded slowly, took the remote and turned off the television set, standing up and facing his boyfriend with a stupid smile. "I could use a shower too," he said with a wink.

In front of him, Kyle fidgeted uncomfortably. "Could you now," he said dryly, looking away.

Stan frowned. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Kyle looked at him, surprised, as if caught off-guard, and then shook his head slowly. "No, no… I'm perfectly fine. I just wanna…. You know… take my shower."

"Well then, I could join you," Stan said, then edged closer and thrust lamely against his boyfriend. "It's been _ages_ since we showered together."

Kyle sighed heavily and closed his eyes, surrendering. "Fine," he muttered, "but could I… you know… use the toilet by myself?"

Stan blinked stupidly. "Wha-? Oh… oh, yeah, sure, go on ahead. Just… call me when you're done."

Kyle's lips curved into a tiny smile and he pecked the black-haired man on the cheek. "No problem," he said and disappeared up the staircase.

Stan remained standing in their living-room on that ugly carpet he got from his mother, contemplating his next actions. He could hug Kyle in the shower, pin his hands to his sides and then violate him. But Kyle would probably act all sissy again, and really, Stan didn't want to be dumped because of attempted rape. Maybe he could enter Kyle quickly, without him noticing, and because it would feel so fucking good, Kyle would probably forgive him.

Yeah, he could try that.

With his mind resolved and his cock already twitching with anticipation, Stan skipped merrily down to hallway and came to a stop next to the bathroom door, deciding he would jump on his redhead as soon as the Jew will decide to come out. Stan leaned on the wall, tapping his foot and pursing his lips slightly as he waited. His ears perked when he heard a low moan and his foot came to a stop as he pressed his ear against the wooden surface of the door. Another moan followed and Stan frowned to himself, figuring his boyfriend was jerking off while he could just come out already and get the real deal! Then Stan could barely hear a sharp intake of breath and he huffed angrily, assuming the Jewish man came.

Stan was about the take the door down, or at least yell at his boyfriend from the other side, when he could distinguish between the low moans and deep breaths a small sniffle. Stan's eyes widened and he stood up straight, staring at the door.

What the hell was going on in there?

A few short moments later Stan could hear water flowing, and he forgot all about the assumed crying when he realized Kyle didn't bother to call him. He was about to knock angrily on the door when a yell from inside stopped him from doing so.

"Stan!" Kyle called, voice just slightly cracked, "I'm ready!"

Stan waited outside for a few short seconds before entering, frowning slightly as he spotted his boyfriend in the tub, wet from the waist below.

"You didn't call me," Stan said while he took off his shirt.

Kyle frowned. "No, I just did. This is why you came, right?"

"Oh, I came alright," Stan muttered angrily as he pulled down his pants. "I bet you did, too!"

"Stan, what the fuck?"

But Stan did not reply. He pulled down his boxers and joined his boyfriend in the tub, taking the showerhead from the redhead and wetting himself from head to toe, before turning the metallic instrument around and using it on the Jewish man, who turned around himself and did not find his black-haired friend to be amusing at all.

"I'll show you fuck," Stan said, hugging Kyle tightly from behind and grinding against him, trailing kisses down his neck and caressing his back.

"Stan-" Kyle tried, but stopped mid-sentence as he felt Stan's hand on his lower back.

"Jerking yourself off when I already suggested taking a shower with you…" Stan whispered against the Jew's shoulder blade, moving his hand to the white buttocks, ignoring the cringe it ensued from the redhead.

"Stan, please-" Kyle tried again, but his words were replaced with a small yelp as he felt curious fingers at his entrance.

"Stop being such a wuss, Kyle," Stan said, kissing Kyle's shoulder slowly. "It doesn't hurt when you get used to it, I promise."

"Stan, stop it already!" Kyle said and hissed as Stan fingered him slowly.

"It'll be better…" Stan said quietly, frowning slightly as something about Kyle's ass seemed odd to him. But, as he couldn't quite figure out what it was he inserted his finger deeper. Kyle yelped again, and instead of bending his back towards him, like Stan thought he'd do, he arched his back backwards, trying to get away. "Enough!" he cried, trying to pry Stan off of him.

"Come on, Kyle," Stan said, grabbing a hold of his boyfriend's hand. "Just this once, I promise I'll make you feel so good you'll never want to top again."

"No, Stan!" Kyle cried, turned off the water and stumbled out of the bathtub, limping slightly towards the towels.

Stan frowned deeply and got out as well, grabbing a hold of Kyle before he could grab his green towel from the rack.

"No!" Kyle cried. Stan was about to argue again, but then Kyle turned around to face him and the fear that planted itself in his eyes caused Stan to let go and stare at the redhead dumbly.

"Kyle…" he breathed and lifted his hand to stroke his pale cheek slowly. "What's going on?"

"Please stop this, Stan," Kyle said quietly, voice quivering slightly.

"Why are you so scared of it?" Stan asked. "Stop beating around the bush, why the fuck are you so afraid of me?"

Kyle gulped and looked away. "It's not you I'm afraid of…" he mumbled.

"What then!" Stan cried, taking his hands down.

"I-" Kyle started, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I… I have hemorrhoids, Stan," he finished in a low whisper.

"What?" Stan breathed, eyes widening. "I thought… I thought they went away when you were nine!"

Kyle shook his head and smiled pathetically. "Hemorrhoids never truly go away," he explained and sighed. "That's why I don't want… you know. I don' think it'll be wise. Especially not today. I can… fuck, Stan, I can't sit without cringing and you want to stick something up my ass?"

"I didn't know!" Stan said, quick to defend himself. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's too embarrassing, okay? I didn't think it is necessary for you to know…"

"Well, apparently it was!" Stan argued, shaking his head slowly. "Had I known, I wouldn't have tried anything!"

Kyle said nothing in return. "I'm sorry," he muttered finally, looking down at his bare feet.

Stan sighed. "It's okay Kyle," he said, taking down a green towel from the rack and giving it to the redhead. "I'm not mad."

Kyle smiled up at him and dried himself slowly. "I know I can't top for life," Kyle said. "But I can't bottom either."

Stan felt as if someone punched him in the stomach, but smiled, nevertheless. "I-it's alright," he said, chuckling softly. "I can live with it…"

Kyle smiled, but a second later the smile fell and he sighed heavily. "No you can't," he said. "Look, Stan," Kyle said and gripped the other boy's shoulder weakly. "When I'll feel better, I'll try to bottom and we'll see if it works, alright?"

Stan nodded. "Yeah, sure," he said, then pursed his lips in thought. "So you didn't jerk off in there?"

"Hell no!"

"Well," Stan smiled slyly and caressed his boyfriend's stomach. "Do you want to, then?"

_End._

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**Author's Note II: **I am so unpleased with the outcome…

Please review!


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